The One They Love Most
by JordieBElizabeth
Summary: Long before Katniss lit the flames of rebellion, another tribute shook Panem's districts with quiet force. The forty-seventh annual Hunger Games begins with a shock, and one chosen from District Four struggles to uphold a vow of utmost importance. But keeping promises is difficult when the Capitol is baying for bloodshed.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I will be uploading chapters one and two tonight because I know that the first is a slow start, the necessary exposition. Chapter two will see the plot kick in and take off. Enjoy!**

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Long before our sixteen-year-old heroine daringly volunteered for her sister in the Reaping, there was another tribute that rocked the world of Panem's citizens. Not in the rebellion-inducing sense that we all adore Miss Everdeen for; no, Katniss' journey is quite unique in that result. This ground-shaker was quiet and short-lived, forgotten by the time the next year rolled around. But as the events unfolded live on screens across the nation, none could escape the simple potency of what they witnessed.

* * *

A frustrated puff of breath exits her mouth sharply and lifts the bangs that had just fallen into her face for the fourth time. Of course, she doesn't normally spend so long at this; if her hair caused her problems she would simply force herself to stop bothering with it. But today is a bad day. Today needs a distraction, even one as silly as rebellious bangs. So she takes extra care with her hair, eventually twisting the front pieces to the side and using more pins than is likely necessary.

A glance at the clock on her parents' dresser makes her leap up. Late. As she rushes from the room, she snags a glimpse of herself one last time and sees what she expects to see: a tall, lanky girl with mousy brown strands, thick brows, dull chocolate eyes, and a defeated slouch about her shoulders that doesn't go unnoticed. She isn't normally so unhappy, but today she is. Today, everyone is.

"Jamie-! Oh, there you are," her mom cries from the bottom of the stairs as Jamie descends in a rush. "About time, you'll have to hurry to make it."

"I know. I'll be quick," she answers, moving to slip past her mother, but a tight embrace stops her. Sadly, Jamie grips her mother back, still trying not to think about the pain that two families are going to have to experience.

"I love you so much," her mother whispers.

"I love you, too," Jamie returns, squeezing her mom back in response. A few more seconds, then she pulls away with a reassuring smile on her face. "And I'll see you later."

Her dad comes next, wrapping her in his big arms and lifting her from the floor. He doesn't get far—she's almost as tall as him—but it takes her back to a time when she felt that he could make her fly if he lifted her high enough.

"Good luck, baby girl," he says into her shoulder, and she giggles at the pet name.

"Thanks, Dad. I'm guessing John left?"

"Yeah, about ten minutes ago." As per usual. John was always the early riser. At a young age, he always had a joy for running, hosting races at school and in the street. He would wake up at the crack of dawn just to run around District 4. When his accident happened, Jamie had worried about how he would deal with the limited mobility his newly handicapped leg offered, but her concern ended up being unfounded. He was up just as early the next day, instead choosing the ocean, where the water allowed for more ease of motion. And in Jamie's opinion, he really was a good swimmer.

"I'll see if I can catch up with him."

* * *

Sudden blindness assaults her vision in a sharp stab behind her eyes as she leaves her house. She promptly closes them, digging the heels of her hands into the sockets as tears decorate her lash line. Thankfully, she has the wisdom to stop walking as this temporary obstruction occurs; two steps further would have sent her sprawling at the bottom of the porch stairs. She slowly opens her eyes a moment later, vision adjusting properly this time. She takes the time to observe her surroundings. Many of her friends and neighbors have dispersed toward the square, and only the stragglers like her remain. Jamie leaps from the porch and picks up a slight jog in the hopes of shortening her time and catching up with her brother.

As she makes her way to the square, she soaks in the sights of her district. Though it's true that life under the Capitol's reign is harsh and unfair, Jamie can't help but love her district. The ocean is a calming force, a sleeping giant that the people thrive on. She feels just as at home on land as she does in the water, and she could smell the salty spray almost anywhere in the district. The warmth of the sun is her near-constant companion and reliable friend.

The number of people increases rapidly as her jog brings her within a block of the square. Jamie begins to search avidly for John, calling his name every few minutes. She waits for the familiar voice or ruffled brown hair to catch her attention, but no such thing came. It's too crowded, too busy, and too senseless on a day like today. So focused is she on searching through faces that she doesn't notice herself veering into another person in the small throng.

"Woah, that was a close one!"

Surprised, and whirling around almost too fast, she finds herself looking up at a familiar face.

"Thomas. Hi," she says, caught off-guard by his unexpected presence.

"Hey," he replies, grinning into her face with baby blues that reminded her of a spring sky. His light brown hair shifts in a rare breath of hot wind, and Jamie can't help thinking that it really isn't fair how effortlessly he reminds her of an adorable little kid excited at the idea of an adventure.

Pressing past it, she resumes speaking. "Sorry if I almost ran into you. I was looking for John."

Thomas frowns. "I saw him just now not that far away. Gimme a sec."

It only took about half a minute to spot him. Thomas' height is superior even to her family's own, and it pays off.

"He's heading toward the registration lines. Second from the right."

"Thanks," Jamie smiles.

"Sure thing," Tom answers. Then he hesitates, and Jamie feels a prick of unnecessary nervousness at whatever he will say next. Disappointingly, the moment passes quickly, with Thomas giving a somber shrug. "Good luck. See you tomorrow, maybe."

"Yeah, you too," she says, and they both part with a weight in their hearts at the thought of losing someone they love. Jamie forces herself to shake off her grief, along with Thomas' influence—whatever it was—and approaches her brother.

John sees her coming and waves her over. He grins as she steps up next to him, and they stand shoulder-to-shoulder in line.

"Hey!" he greets, slapping her calf playfully with his cane.

"Hey," Jamie answers with a half-gentle punch to his arm. He pouts with feigned injury as she snorts at his behavior. John is only a year older than her, but he is her role model and dearest friend.

The siblings finally move along in the line, approaching the registration table. This part makes Jamie nervous. Getting her finger pricked isn't a pleasant feeling, and it's worse if you manage to get a surly old man bored with his life. Thankfully, the man that faces her now is obviously new, so he takes his time being gentle. From beside her, she hears John hiss as the middle-aged woman behind the table sticks him rather _un_gently. As they move away, he waves his finger in the air.

"For heaven's sake!" he exclaims, annoyed. "The old hag is trying to kill me before the Games even start."

"My guy was so nice. And so delicate," Jamie exaggerates, watching John's face. "He's probably got the softest hands in all of Panem."

John scowls. "That's disgusting."

They stop walking simultaneously. It's time for them to go their separate ways, him to the boy's side, her to the girl's. In spite of the rules, however, and regardless that there are less than five minutes before the ceremony begins, Jamie feels the overwhelming desire to take hold of John and never let go.

So she does.

She wraps him in a smothering hug and holds fast, shutting her eyes against the scared faces walking past that so resemble the trembling inside her. John squeezes her back, reassuring and caring and maybe a little fearful, too. Nothing matters but them. Not the Capitol. Not the Reaping. Not the Games. Just staying close to the one they love the most.

But before she's ready, John's trying to tell her that they need to let go, and she wouldn't have, except that a firm hand rests on her shoulder, one she isn't familiar with, and she pulls back enough to see through her blurred vision (_when had she started crying?_) that it's Thomas slowly splitting her apart from John. His eyes are sad as he looks at her, and it's this, more than anything, that compels her to obey.

They're all scared. Every person there is scared. All around, eleven- and twelve-year-olds gaze at the ruined faces of the older kids and parents and see only fear. So she dries her eyes with the back of her hand. She is afraid, but she can do this again. This is her seventh time; she only has one more to go, and she'll be done. Not to mention that this year is John and Thomas' last. They will be safe as soon as they get this over with. Squaring her shoulders, Jamie looks up and smiles at the two boys in front of her.

"See you afterwards."

And she walks away before she can lose it.


	2. Chapter 2

A chilled weight settles in the pit of her stomach. She feels sick, miniscule, and completely helpless. The urge to cry pushes at the back of her throat, a familiar sensation at the thought of the events that will unfold at the Reaping. It is the same story every year: two children without a chance will be selected to die a torturous death on public display as a reminder, lest the Districts forget who holds their chains. Two families will be ruined, demolished, irreparable. _Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.¹_

Jamie stands a few inches taller than the girls around her. She ends up being placed next to Penelope, a friend from school. However, no greeting is given between them; what can be said to someone that might be dead in a week? So silence rules over the two girls and most of the youth of District 4. The Capitol's cameras are already beginning to pan the crowd, focusing on faces and asking themselves _could this be the one_? Suddenly aware of the emotional state her tearful farewell to John had left her in, Jamie quickly tries to wipe all signs of anxiousness from her face, hoping against hope that it worked at least somewhat.

A short, skinny man in a vibrant orange suit rises from his seat and makes his way to the microphone. His face is bubbly and his cheeks a permanently bright red. His hair is…strange, to say the very least. Jamie can't determine if it's fake or simply dyed, but the royal purple, doughnut-shaped style is certainly eye-catching. The bouncy little creature on the stage taps the microphone with his nubby finger, making the sound system shriek in protest, along with everyone in the square. The little man giggles.

"Hello, hello, hello-hello-hello!" he chirpes happily. "Welcome, one and all, to the District 4 Reaping in the forty-seventh annual Hunger Games!"

Dead silence.

"Tough crowd," he says, and laughs boisterously at his own joke. "Now, some of you may be wondering, who is that handsome devil on the stage?" A wink. "Well, as you know, your previous announcer sadly passed away shortly after last year's Games, which was quite the tragedy."

"_Pfft_," Penelope whispers next to Jamie. "He's so thrilled that he got this job, he's glad he died!"

The stout little orange keeps yabbering. "My name is Menenius Agrippa Cipachi, and I am here in his stead to carry out the noble tradition of the Reaping in District 4. So without further ado…"

Jamie's breath catches as Cipachi wiggles his digits at the crowd.

"…let us begin."

Cipachi skips over to the large bowl holding the girls' names. After making a big show of picking one (which involves choosing a slip of paper and then switching it dramatically with another at the last minute), he hops back in front of the microphone.

"Are you ready?" he goads, with a toothy grin. "The female tribute for District 4 is..."

Everything freezes.

"…JAMIE WHITE!"

There is nothing.

There is no such thing as air. There is no such thing as light or dark. There is no such thing as a heartbeat, or a blink, or a thought. There is only nothing.

Then suddenly, there is something. A pressure on the hand. Penelope gripping her hand with sorrow. It is the only thing that brings her back from nothing.

And then there is everything. There is breath and thought and panic and those close to her are all staring and giving her away and the world is too bright for her burning eyes to handle and it's all she can do to keep from falling where she stands. Her senses swirl in chaos as she tries to sort through them and do the dreaded thing that she must do, and that is to walk up onto the stage and accept that she is _never coming back down_.

Another pressure from Penelope, and sense snaps back into her. This is it. From now on, there is no such thing as weakness. If Jamie White is afraid, they will not know. If Jamie White is weak, they will not know. They will see the strong and dominating Jamie White that shall be regarded as a force to be reckoned with. Her lack of response has bought her time; the cameras have not quite found her. So she slides her face into a black mask because numb is the only expression she can manage right now and does her best not to break as she steps forward, as she feels the crowd move away from her, as she listens to John's distressed cries from somewhere behind her. Cipachi sees her now. Panem sees her now.

And the screen above the stage shows a tall, strong girl beginning her death march. Now with a visual, Jamie makes her strides longer and more confident, as though she was a Colossus among men.

The difference between what she sees and what she feels is astounding.

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**A/N: Yay, plot! So there's the first little bit. The fellow tribute will come in next chapter.**

**Feel free to tell me what you think! Any constructive criticism is welcome. I'm well aware that I lack perfection!**

**Even if you hated it, thanks for giving it a chance :)**


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